Peter's Kind of a Dick
by Semi-Functional Eraser
Summary: A new Spider-Man winds up in a teenaged Peter Parker's web. He's kind of a dick. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**A really quick and unexpected idea that occurred to me. I enjoyed it so much I had to put it down, because Marisa Tomei is hot.  
**

 **Synopsis: A different Spider-Man winds up in the world of one teenaged Peter Parker. He's kind of a dick.**

 **Warnings: (not) incest, MCU and Marvel Adventures crossover. Rated for mention of adult activities and language.  
**

* * *

"You had _sex_ with Aunt Mei?!"

The young Peter Parker's voice echoed throughout the entire expensive, well furnished apartment. It was something he would regret later. For now though, as he stared up into the blithe eyes of the reflection of his reflection, his eyes were wide and shocked, disgusted. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

The other man, around twenty-four years of age, blinked. Then, he raised a finger. "Well, she isn't _my_ Aunt May," he said, shrugging. "And she doesn't look like her either, so that helps a lot."

Peter's hands went to his hair. Despite super strength and the ability to rip pavement from the ground with his fingertips, he couldn't quite manage to rip his hair from his scalp. It was not for a lack of trying. Maybe his durability extended to the smallest cellular makeup of him as well?

Hardly the time to geek out. Time to hate himself now.

His voice screeched, the sound of someone's face sliding down a glass window, something he desperately wanted to do to the older man, and he floundered, "I-How could you-what- _why?!"_

"Your voice is going to get hoarse, one," the other man started, counting off his fingers and annoying the young Peter to no end, "two, I could because she wanted to, and as to why… well, I haven't had sex in nearly a month. Thanks for that, by the way."

Peter Parker cursed the day he ever saved his alternate universe counterpart.

Well, _cursed_ was a strong word. It was kind of cool. 'Saved him' was also a stretch. Truthfully, he had been saved by the oddly succinctly dressed man claiming to be _Spider-Man._

His costume was a lot more polished than Peter's himself, and a lot more frightening. Red and black with a large, gangly spider that fit the man's size, small, emotionless black eyes… Peter didn't believe him at first. He'd been shocked and had attacked, an abysmal side effect of being a teenager without the enviable skill of foresight.

All protestations ceased when the other Spider-Man had taken off his mask.

The other Peter Parker was similar to him, but not quite. There were little differences. A slightly different shade to his hair, which was a darker brown than Peter's, and he lacked the beauty mark Peter himself had, as well as the fact that he was much taller and much more heavy and muscular than himself, literally. He was a reflection of Peter's reflection, is the closest way to describe it. Looking at him Peter could see the similarities, understand that he was looking at _himself_ , but there was an insurmountable disconnect that stopped him from truly identifying him as himself.

The similarities seemingly ended _there_ , too. The other Peter Parker was a killer.

And now he had a killer version of him, living with him and Mei Reilly Parker. Which one of them had _truly_ gone insane?

"How is that _my_ fault?!" Peter screeched, pushing against the older version of him, and loathing that the mountain of a man did not move. "You landed in _my_ city, not the other way around!"

"Because either way, I'd have to take care of you," the other Peter sighed as though he were talking to a child. Despite the nine year difference between them, he did seem a lot older. His eyes lacked that spark that Peter's did, and it was replaced with the too familiar look Peter had seen in his father's pictures when Richard Parker wasn't holding his beloved son. The look of someone who had seen things. Someone… experienced.

Peter had had enough time to consider these things and wouldn't get distracted, not again. That's how it _always_ started. For the last month his counterpart had proven to be a genius at misdirection and _annoyances._ God help the criminal underbelly of Manhattan if he allowed _this_ one to go out and play.

No, really, God help them because he'd be the first thing they'd see when they opened their eyes. If they were lucky.

"I can take care of myself," Peter scowled, and was annoyed that it sounded like a pout. He was sixteen years old, dang it. He could lift a uhaul truck one-handed, with some effort. Would it kill for him to have some baritone to his voice?

The other Peter smirked. A small curl of his lips that looked more patronizing than amused. "Yes you can, but you don't have to," he said, and smiled wider. "At the very least you need to get a better fashion sense. I've been to a lot of worlds, but I have never run into a thrift store Spider-Man."

Peter twitched. "It's not a thrift store _costume_ ," he grumbled for the hundredth time. "It is _cost effective_ and _incognito_."

"Primary colors are the _antithesis_ to incognito, Peter," the other him chuckled. "I've been to one where every week we had to switch into a dollar store adult sized costume, but never one where we got the materials from the back of a _closet."_

"They were _presents!"_ Peter defended.

"From who, Good Will?"

That was it, Peter fumed. He charged, lashing out with his strength that would have put his fist through concrete as if it were a paper wall.

Only to have it meet the stone-like hand of his counterpart, whose gaze had softened. It would have killed a normal person, but his counterpart handled it like nothing. Peter knew this witheringly. It was something that the older Parker had insisted he take advantage of. With his strength, he couldn't afford to get complacent. There wasn't anyone around to take what he could deal… until now.

And so for the last twenty-seven days, he had been training. Being trained by the killer version of yourself who knew just about every fancy martial arts wasn't as fun as it sounded. Peter couldn't even come _close_ to hitting the man, much less hurting him.

He had, however, found a few tidbits that proved useful. He possessed an accelerated healing factor that allowed him to heal nearly broken bones and sprains and bruises within a single day. That was nice. Except it wasn't, because it meant that he'd have to train just as hard the following day.

Then there was his spider-sense, which hadn't made a single lick of progress. His counterpart's spider-sense had _evolved_ into full on clairvoyance, as evidenced by the way he could tell what was going to happen in the nearby vicinity for hours on end, and perfectly predict and cut of what Peter would say. It made him absolutely untouchable, and Peter was a little jealous.

It wasn't all it was cracked up to be, his counterpart said, doing a poor job to make him feel better. Sometimes knowing what would happen got extremely annoying, and conversations terrifyingly redundant. It had made Peter, the other one, into a bit of a recluse. He had moved to Russia, or so he said, and lived in a forest.

A forest. In a mansion. With a hot blonde that enjoyed having sex with him on the ceiling and sharing him with other women.

 _Fuck my life,_ Peter had groaned. _Screw me, him, whatever._

"You have a lot of work to do," his older self said, smiling. " _That's_ what I'm here for. To help you, kid. So you don't make the same mistakes _I did."_

Peter wrenched his fist away, but got the feeling that if he wanted to, his counterpart could have kept it where it was. He rubbed his knuckles slightly, feeling the skin a bit raw from an early morning training session. "Don't call me kid," he groused. "It's Spider-Man."

He grit his teeth. What type of mistakes could the other him have _made_ when he knew the future implicitly? Peter supposed he hadn't always been that way. Maybe he'd been like him, instead? Alone.

What type of mistakes had he made? The question frightened Peter to a surprising degree. What type of life had he led to land him where he was? In an entirely different universe, an apparently seasoned killer? From the stories he'd been told, a mercenary, an _assassin,_ and not the "Nothing is true, everything is permitted," variety.

Though the gun thing was pretty awesome.

"Of course it is," the older Peter chuckled dryly, clapping him on the shoulder with a lead, calloused hand. "You go get some rest. You're going to need it. Come five o'clock we're going to lift."

Peter frowned. The downside of having super-strength was that if he wanted to get any stronger, he had to lift exponentially more than normal. This meant a pair of SUVs… for now. At least getting faster was easier, or so he had been told. Kinesiology and practice, visualization and constantly pushing his limits.

His muscles still hadn't completely healed from the previous day, and that had been a _warmup_. The older Peter had taken him to an abandoned lot and worked him over. Legs, arms, back, everything, completely testing the younger Spider-Man's limits. And now came the time to exceed them, if only by a little. It was an oft repeated schedule that had become the norm for the last month. Peter sighed. At least he'd get a couple of days off to completely rest after today.

"Fine," he waved, shoulders slumping. "I'm gonna go read."

The older Peter snorted. He was still pleasantly surprised that any kid liked to _read books_ nowadays. Of course, if was going to be anyone it was going to be Peter Parker. The nuclear family throwback child.

The younger Peter walked on slightly dead feet to his room. When he reached the doorway, he stopped. Then, turning around slowly, the older Peter saw something just beneath _murder_ in his eyes, glazed with extreme annoyance. It was just as amusing as the former, though.

"You did it _again,"_ he whispered, disgusted and disbelieving. "I can't believe it _, you did it again!"_

He had! Somehow, he had distracted him again! " _You had sex with my Aunt!"_ God, he _hated_ himself sometimes!

Peter charged, but found nothing there. The door was already open, and the sound of feet treading up to the roof was only audible thanks to his enhanced hearing. He gave chase with a manic look in his eye.

Maybe living with your older self wasn't so bad. At least it wouldn't be if he didn't shack up with your Aunt.

* * *

The apartment had been paid for, bought, even, because he had the good habit of keeping a good deal of money with him wherever he went. There was never any telling how much he might need or what currency. Except there was, his spider-sense seemed to say. He'd always know, for months into the future.

Except he didn't want to. Clairvoyance made life a little… boring. I was almost like cheating, and sometimes he saw things he didn't want to. They were easy enough to stop because he _was_ himself, but it was quite the spoiler ten out of ten times.

Which is why he enjoyed ending up here, in a completely different Earth. He hadn't seen that one coming.

To avoid the increasingly humdrum of a life with no surprises, he had taken to occasionally turning off his spider-sense. Not always, and not completely, but ignoring it. He couldn't be caught by surprised, was so fast that no human could ever hope to catch him off-guard unless they were a speedster, and strong enough that lifting a bus was child's play. Turning off his spider-sense was a way to spice up his life, every once in a while, keep it fresh.

It had helped. It brought back that excitement of being in a life or death situation where he had no idea what would happen. Doing it enough had enabled him to downgrade his spider-sense, much like he had learned to upgrade it. Bring it back to its former capabilities, to roll it back. It was easily brought back to its current limit, but that was still growing, or so Nebo had said.

But _this_ … the former vigilante hadn't seen this coming, and hadn't been ignoring his spider-sense at the time. He'd been in the heat of battle, the first exciting one in a while. That wasn't saying much though, since something about the _thing_ he'd been fighting seemed to weaken him, make him weaker, frailer, slower. All he had was his spider-sense, which needed to be downgraded just so he could avoid the sheer annoyance of it when he urged him to _run._ He wouldn't run, didn't need to,but without his rigorously trained speed it was only barely keeping him alive.

Then, he saw a flash of red, from the man's pitchfork weapon, and blue, from the Shi'Ar generator he had fooled him into overloading he had fallen through… something. Some sort of gash in space time, a yawning black chasm that was both warm and cold, and eternal and short.

He had landed back in New York.

His spider-sense was silent and 'toned down' for the moment, but he felt back into sorts, just as good as ever. Then, with the weakest ring possible to identify something that could barely be identified as a threat, he noticed a car coming to him head on at somewhere above seventy miles per hour.

And it was a getaway car. With a hostage. Peter rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

To his surprise, before he could even move, something had moved him. Something that sounded so familiar.

 _Thwip._

Peter looked up, the world slow to his superhuman senses, and took a few seconds to bask in the bemusement of seeing… himself.

 _Ah._ But it wasn't him. He'd never be so shabbily dressed. So either he was back in New York due to some sort of wormhole, which he doubted, because New York didn't have a Spider-Man, or he was in another universe, again.

Going from the young sounding, muffled voice that traded some sort of anxious, not at all calm banter to him, he was willing to bet the farm on the latter.

What followed was loathsomely typical. He was still suited up, and the difference between him and the other Spider-Man was as stark as possible. Where he was tall, the other was short. Where he was more muscled than a male gymnast, the other was as lithe as he'd been in his first days as Spider-Man, though… his fashion sense had never been _that_ bad, had it? He hoped not.

While his younger self was trying to pick his jaw off the floor, he went and stopped the getaway car, came back, and found him just attempting to leave. It couldn't have been more than a minute. He knew New York like the back of his hand, and alternate universe though it may be, this New York looked similar enough to make traveling through it a piece of cake.

Fast-forward a month later, Peter felt he made a distinct improvement to his younger self's life. Using the money he had on hand, stored in a hammerspace type suitcase of his own design, he had bought a new apartment handily for him to live in, as well as his Aunt Mei.

And, oh boy, his Aunt Mei.

She was _not his_ Aunt May.

She was too young, too… beautiful. Sexy was the right word, but that lacked the sheer amount of… oomph. She looked nothing like the matronly old woman that raised him and thought the worst of Spider-Man. She couldn't have been a day over thirty-five.

He had acted before he realized, long learned skills of seduction and confidence in his career as an assassin and mercenary coming up like second nature. They wined, they dined, got to know each other, and…

Well, his younger self wasn't pleased. He'd get over it. There wasn't even a _blood_ relation, at least between himself and Mei. It wasn't like she was his mother's sister.

In the time he'd been on this earth he'd gotten to know it quite well. The criminals were still just as dumb, the drug dealers and gangsters still just as predictable, but… it wasn't as developed as his. The super-hero scene that he'd left behind years ago was next to none existent. There had been an alien invasion only a year and some change prior, and Captain America had just recently been de-iced. The Avengers were in their infancy, and mutants seemed to be next to nonexistent. Either that, or they hadn't resurfaced, yet.

The first step was to make his younger self's life easier. That meant stopping him from hiding things from his Aunt, the only family he knew of. Peter would have given it second thought, as his own Aunt loathed Spider-Man, but the perks of being in an entirely different dimension was that certain things were different. Aunt Mei, for example, was not only a sexy, slightly goofy young woman, but she was also a big fan of Spider-Man.

A _very_ big fan.

It was a good thing she kept that a better kept secret than his younger self kept his identity secret, or he would have lost so much sleep.

Then came the task of revealing himself to her. The Spider-Man of a different earth was a lot easier to say after the icebreaker, "Your nephew is a superhero." Surprisingly and unsurprisingly, she had taken it quite well. She passed out.

But Mei Reilly Parker was far more accepting than his Aunt had been. She snorted, a goofy sound with an equally goofy, charming grin, and threw her hands up in the air. "Sure, you're Spider-Man from an alternate universe! And you're also my… nephew?"

He denied that vehemently, assuming the identity of Benjamin Reilly Parker. A hiccup in the family tree, a change in the past, had made things turn out a bit differently. He had, so he said, not been named Peter, he'd been named Ben, after his father's deceased brother, who had never married. Technically true, for the first part, and as to the latter… he wasn't her nephew.

Her eyes had glossed over with uncontrollable fondness at the name.

His Aunt May had looked _nothing_ like Mei in her heyday. It would be the cause of much postulation of constants. Was Mei an entirely different version of his Aunt, or had there been some sort of hiccup in the past that changed things? There were enough differences between him and his younger counterpart to justify this, but the reasons could stretch back infinitely, so he decided to ignore them. Alternate universe, hot Aunt.

They got to know each other, and then _know_ each other after he had paid for a couple of nights in the fanciest hotel in New York. Peter had felt guilty for a moment, laying with Uncle Ben's wife, but… it wasn't _his_ Uncle Ben, and if he was anything like him, he'd want her to move on. Till death do us part, after all. Mei had been lonely, stressed from the experience of raising a young man by her lonesome, and needed it. Peter needed to lose the blueish discoloration in his testicles. The walls had rattled and the other denizens of the building lost hours of sleep. It had been a casual, and repeated hookup, but much needed on both sides.

It was going fine until his younger self found out. Looking down at the building where they now lived, a neat, clean looking apartment building that put their old one to shame, Peter winced. He didn't need his spider-sense to tell him that it was probably best to avoid being there for a bit. His younger self wasn't a threat to him, more of a rambunctious little brother he had never asked for, but he didn't him to miss anymore sleep than was necessary.

That had been another thing he insisted upon. No more late night patrols, missing sleep and school. "The city is well enough that you don't need to sacrifice more than what's necessary," he had told the young Peter.

Unfortunately, a seemingly universal constant was that this Peter was just as stubborn as he had been in his younger days, at that age. Just as driven by guilt. "With great power comes great responsibility!" He had said, as if it was the perfect defense and justified everything.

Peter crossed his arms and nodded in understanding. Then, he slapped him upside the head, knocking him out.

The younger Peter was well on his way to stunting his growth, something Peter himself had done and only defeated thanks to vitamins and such given to him by Nebo during his training. He was failing in school, as Peter had. He was wasting away, unable to keep the strict diet that someone of his stature needed. Passed simply eating enough to keep his metabolism sated, he needed to eat the right things in order to not remain as gangly as he was now. At sixteen years old Peter was only 5'6 and light as a feather, a paltry height compared to his older counterpart's 6'4. Of course, this wasn't indicative of his strength, he could still heft around and above ten tons before he started to strain, but it didn't have to be just that.

Without a surefire way to get home, and without the existence of geniuses life Reed Richards or mystics like Doctor Strange, and unwilling to seek out the aid of the fledgling Avengers, Peter had laid low and stayed with his new 'family', his responsibility. He'd get back home, he knew that without a doubt. The man attacking him had been uninterested in anyone else but him, as well.

For now, he'd do his best to ensure that his younger counterpart wasn't as uptight and unwound as he had been. That he wasn't alone, had someone to teach him. Peter hadn't had that, but _this_ Peter would, if he had anything to say about it.

In his younger self's place, he had assumed the identity of one costumed vigilante. As it turned out, his design skills far outweighed the other Peter, due to experience. The costume he made for himself was simple and uniform, while not eye catching. Perfect for stealth. One of the first things he had to teach to his counterpart was that attention was not needed, nor should it be encouraged. Spider-Man didn't need to attract attention to himself save the day. At the very least, considering human psychology, he wouldn't be called an attention seeker either.

For a moment, Peter shuddered. _Goggles._ Goggles! What was the younger him thinking? At fifteen he had been able to make his costume out of theatre club materials, complete with one way lenses that hadn't impeded his enhanced sight or allowed it to overwhelm him.

But that was exactly why he was here. Or why he decided to stay. Peter Parker, Spider-Man, wouldn't have to face the world alone. Not again.

Spiders needed to stick together.

The familiar ring of a siren sounded. And Peter took a mighty leap off of the building, covering a sixty foot distance with ease before he eased into a freefall. His durability made the impact into a rooftop as easy as hopping, and he kept running to the emergency, having decided to not use any webbing. That was _Spider-Man's_ trademark, and he didn't want to step on his toes.

 _Dusk_ was on the scene, now. For added excitement, he toned down his spider-sense. Maybe he'd even see this earth's version of Jean DeWolffe again? The night was young.

* * *

 **It occurred to me that Assassin's spider-sense might make him as dispassionate as, say, Saitama from One Punch Man, so I ran with that. Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Sophia "Chat" Sanduval, named affectionately by her friends, of which she had _one_ , was a strange girl. This was the reason she didn't have many friends, obviously. Outside of her surrogate sister, Emma, and her many pets, she didn't talk to anyone much.

Chat knew she wasn't like everyone else. Unless everyone else could talk to animals. Except they couldn't, but Emma could talk to people's minds. _Read_ them. She was a telepath, and that made life a lot easier. Especially when people looked at her strangely.

" _She talks to animals…"_

" _What a ditz."_

The sun rose up, another day of a new life. Chat sighed. A new school, a new chance, a _new approach_ to do it better, this time. She'd be normal, she'd be liked. She… wouldn't tell people that animals understood her, and they wouldn't think she was crazy. She'd just be the girl who was good with animals.

People liked girls who were good with animals, right? Snow White was still 'trending', right?

If that was true, it didn't apply to Chat. Quickly, though not in a necessarily bad way, she had been discarded as one of the undesirables, the unnoticables. Maybe, her clothes weren't good enough, she didn't care about her hair enough, didn't put out or gossip enough, and maybe she just generally did not fit in. It wasn't so farfetched. She was used to being nomadic, used to moving, and Emma made it so easy for her that her social skills had deteriorated, not that they'd ever been anything _spectacular_.

It was just easier to be forgotten. Chat was almost ready to do that again.

Until she met _him._ Peter Parker. A weird boy. Smart, kind, but refreshingly _weird._ Bashful, strong, mysterious, cute, _weird_. Peter Parker was weird, and she liked that. She liked him the moment she saw him.

He was her first, and so far only, friend at her new school. But she definitely was not stalking him, no sir. She was just… waiting where she normally saw him because that is where she just so happened to be. At the bus stop nearest his apartment. And she knew that it was his bus stop because…

She had given Emma the slip, because the older girl would have pestered and teased her about wanting to take a stinky bus to school instead of her newest car, but Chat didn't care. Peter was the first friend she had made in forever, and loved talking to him. She'd love even more chances to talk to him, but he'd been distant lately.

She was happy for him. With a new apartment came a stroke of luck. His clothes were better, and physically he looked better. The bags beneath his eyes were fading away and he was less tired, coming into school sooner and not running off as much. Still, they time they had to talk to each other was too dreadfully short for Chat. Peter wasn't the type to give out his number and she wasn't one to ask, no matter how many times Emma offered to 'get' it for her.

Peter, like her, was an outcast, though he didn't have to be. He used to be into sports, she heard. Was great at them, but then his Uncle… after that, he pretty much faded away into the background and no one asked questions. An orphan who just lost the only father he had ever known, even the most unforgiving of bullies like that Flash guy understood. That was when he started coming in late and the former would-be valedictorian's grades had dropped.

He was the only person that had been willing to help her and Emma when they first arrived. He saved their life, and then… then Spider-Man came. Emma didn't have to tell her, she started to connect the dots herself. His unexplained absences and dying attendance record, why he avoided sports and faded into the background, why he was never where Spider-Man was and was the only one who could get pictures of him.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Peter Parker was like her.

Well, not really, she could only _talk_ to animals. A pretty pathetic power in comparison if she really thought about it… Chat was fine with it, though. Animals loved her, and were always excited to talk to someone who could finally understand them. Spider-powers did sound cool if it meant being able to do what Peter could, but spiders… spiders were _creepy_. Hoarse sounding creatures you'd expect to hear at night, in a dark closet. Nasty things.

But oh _geez_ did they enjoy tittering about the vigilante. It was the arachnid equivalent of geeking out and kind of cute. It gave them enough common ground to talk, and she realized that spiders weren't so bad. They sounded _awful,_ yes, but weren't awful.

So, Chat decided. Maybe today was the day. She could tell Peter she knew his identity and show him what _she_ could do. Maybe… she could help him? She hadn't thought about what would happen after that, not really, but… at least he didn't have to be alone anymore. They didn't. Hiding his powers from everyone had to be stressful, she knew. She could help. She could be his friend, his partner. Maybe even his-

"Oh, you are so innocent," a wry voice chuckled just as a hand clapped on her shoulder.

Chat jumped and whirled around, coming face to face with the blonde telepath, Emma Frost. "Emma!" She hissed, holding a hand up to her chest were her heart was beating against its cage. "God, I told you about sneaking up on me!"

Emma Frost looked six years her senior. She was a girl that had piqued early, and puberty had decided to skip out on her the rest of the way like someone ditching a tip. She had the body of a cheerleader and breasts that hadn't quite made it past hand-filling, and a thin waist and hips that she was sure was 'sexy, because no one likes fat chicks anymore'. Chat, in the mind of her mind's mind, took a small amount of joy that she hadn't bloomed so early.

Despite this Emma was the most confident person she knew. Though, she figured, it was pretty difficult to be anything other than that when you can make anyone do what you want, and that was something they disagreed on in particular.

"I couldn't resist," the blonde shrugged carelessly, putting her hand on her hip. She was dressed as provocatively as always, but at least that generally went unseen. With her powers, making the two of them invisible had become a reflex after so long. "Not when you're fantasizing about that guy."

"Get out of my head!" Chat stomped, fuming. "A-And I wasn't… shut up."

Emma put her finger to her lips and looked at her through half-lidded eyes, as though she was sizing her up. A familiar nudge to her thoughts and Chat knew she was digging into her brain again, uninvited, and flailed at her to get her to stop. "You're _such_ a romantic, Chat," she sighed, backing up from her. "God, you've got it _bad."_

Chat grumbled to herself. So what if she did? It wasn't as if she didn't _know_ him. Maybe not personally enough, but… Emma vouched for him, said he was as good as they came. _Pure_ , and a recommendation from Emma was as good as it got in her book. But it was something that never happened. She always had something to say to ruin the picture when it came to possible friends.

And with _boys_ she was even worse. Emma was every bit the protective sister that Chat had never had. "He eats his boogers." "He masturbates with his vacuum cleaner." "He kisses his mirror every night." "He has a crush on his sister."

But with Peter, nothing. Not a single bad comment, not a snide or bemused or even amused remark. Emma had been… shocked. Her jaw was open and she was speechless, and then, "He's... guilty. He feels so alone." She had paused, and said without speaking into Chat's mind, "He's Spider-Man."

"If I knew how much you valued my opinion, I would have told you to one, wear something better than _that,_ and two, kept my mouth shut," Emma rolled her eyes.

Chat looked at her clothes, affronted. "What's wrong with my clothes? This is what I always wear! Peter likes it! I think." She gave Emma a hopeful look.

"He does," Emma said, to her relief, "but _I_ don't. It's an insult to my sensibilities."

"You're just an insult," Chat grouse childishly.

Emma put her hand to her heart and sighed dreamily. "And you're in _love._ Well, if there was such a thing. But you got a pretty big crush, girl."

Chat had nothing to say to that. Any defense would have been a lie easily exposed. "Why are you here?" She asked. "Didn't you have that rich guy buy you a new car?"

Emma then twirled some keys around her finger that went to the latest car she had, likely something fast, expensive, and 'free'. "Yes, yes I did. But I couldn't leave you out here by your lonesome!" She shook her shoulder. "Not when you're going to get stood up."

"I'm not going to get stood up!"

"That's true, that only happens on dates. Impossible to get stood up when you're _stalking_ a boy."

Chat choked on a retort seven times before she managed to speak. "It isn't _stalking_ ," she defended. "I'm just-just-"

"Having it bad," Emma supplied helpfully. "I understand. Well, I don't, but I put up with it. Woe is me, watching you is suffering."

Cars passed by on the lonely corner. It was early in the morning and the buses had just started to run. The fact that Emma was out here with her instead of sleeping late like she usually did was not lost on Chat. Emma, despite her demeanor at times, was her best friend. There was never any doubt of that. However, the fact that Chat was out here so early, just for the prospect of talking to a _boy_ was, well… she shuffled her feet.

"Why would you even think he'd be here?" Emma asked suddenly.

"Because he's been getting into school earlier?" Chat said/asked, suddenly not feeling so confident in her plans. "The last month, every day, on time. No distractions."

Emma nodded, and a silence followed… until, "Totally not something a stalker would notice."

" _Ugh_."

"My point still stands, though. Why would you expect him to take the _bus?"_ The blonde gestured vaguely. "When he can, you know. _Thweep_ _thweep_."

"It's thwip," Chat grumbled.

"Ah, I see. In your case it would be, _'I need something better to do in my free time.'"_

If Chat was the type to curse or do anything rude, she would have, and flipped Emma off, but she knew she wasn't that kind of she stomped and sighed. _"_ I don't know. Because it's the only line of action I have? It's not like I can ask him to take me for a spin." Emma raised her eyebrows at her. "A lift! A _lift!_ "

The blonde telepath brought her hands up. "Chill, girl. I'm just teasing. But, you know, if you wanted, I could always-"

" _No,"_ Chat said, whirling on her with a cold, determined look. "You _won't_. Ever. _Stay away_ from his mind, Emma."

"Fine. Fine!" Emma frowned. "I was just trying to help."

Chat sighed. She couldn't keep all of her anger up for long, she never could. Especially not at Emma, but it had burned hotter than ever whenever Peter was brought up. The thought of the telepath twisting his thoughts just for her sake was… "I just want to be liked for _me,_ and not… you." She gave her an apologetic look, as if Emma was going to shatter like ice.

But she caught the slight, guilty looking flinch her surrogate sister gave, before she quickly schooled it. "For once. Peter likes me for me. Not because someone messed with his head."

Emma bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Soph."

Chat hugged her. As the only family she cared to acknowledge, she hugged extra hard. "I know. You only try to help."

After Emma hugged her back, she had that look on her face again. The picture next to the definition of smug. "Oh, not about that. About giving him wet dreams that involved me."

"Emma!"

"And you too, don't worry. I don't mind sharing."

" _Emma!"_ Chat screeched.

The birds and animals in the vicinity went nuts. It was only when she was surrounded on all fronts by dogs, cats, robins, pigeons, rats, and squirrels did Emma relent. Dressed in immaculate white as she was, the prospect of being victim to weaponized animal pee and bird droppings did not sound like a good one.

"Ah… Just kidding?" She gulped. With a shaking hand, she pointed to the apartment building. "Maaaaybe we should go inside and see if he's even _awake?_ That way you could… walk to…gether… ah, heh heh."

Emma wisely decided to walk, not unlike a prisoner on death row, with Chat's glare on her back and the animals following her all the while.

* * *

 **Not enough stories with Chat and the best version of Emma in them.** **They are _adorable._**

 **Going to try to keep this short and spur of the moment, so updates might be irregular. Well, that's- they will be.**

 **Thank you _very_ much to those who have favorited, reviewed, and followed any of my stories - it's a fantastic impetus and salve that maybe, just maybe, what I write isn't as bad as I think it is immediately after posting. _  
_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Chat watched Emma sniff as she looked up at the building. Consulting her library of 'things Emma does when she approves', Chat found that it was, indeed, an approving sniff, although it was a thing she also did when she was either impressed, unimpressed, or congested. Or bored.

"This is certainly a step up," the blonde said with an almost self-satisfied smile, as if she were the cause of the opulent looking building in front of her.

It really was a step up from Peter's previous home, Chat inwardly agreed _._ Compared to the apartment building that he lived in, this one made that one look like a slum. It was clean, pristine, and quiet.

"Where do you think he got the money for this?" Emma wondered, looking at her, and Chat wondered if she plucked the question straight from her mind – it wouldn't have been the first time. "Maybe he wizened up and decided to take advantage of his gifts."

Chat shrugged, though she did doubt it. The last time Peter had tried to do so ended in tragedy.

Emma kept a steady pace away from the animals around them, obviously fearing a urinary bombardment.

Which was probably for the best, as the animals were intuitively tuned in to Chat's emotions, but she couldn't control them. They simply really liked her, and if they felt the need to act on her behalf, there was a chance that her telling them to stop wouldn't be good enough… and that brought a mischievous smile to Chat's face.

Seeing the rare glint in the younger girl's eye, Emma started to walk slightly faster. They crossed the street and stepped inside the building, which Chat idly noticed had a revolving door, which was pretty much universal for 'fancy digs'.

"Now would be a very good time to lose your, ahem, 'entourage'. Even if this place allows pets, I doubt they allow a _zoo_ ," Emma said, smirking.

Glaring briefly at Emma's triumphant smile, complete with her arms crossed and her barely looking down at the slightly shorter girl, Chat politely and gently shooed the animals that followed her in, out. The birds chirped and fluttered and said goodbye, and the dogs sniffed their way out as if the building was extremely curious, but the cats, as usual, took their own damn time. Cats didn't give a damn.

She turned around slowly, her smile obviously strained, expecting people to look at her weirdly again. Thankfully, besides her and Emma, there was only one more person there, at the front desk. It made sense – it was still very early. A fact that rudely reminded her that here she was, at her friend's apartment building. Unannounced.

She groaned to herself. "I am so, so sorry about that."

The person at the front desk, a man with dark hair and a friendly but tired look to him, blinked. He shook his head. "Not the weirdest thing I've seen all week, kid," he shrugged.

Emma raised her eyebrow. Almost instantly, Chat heard her inside her head, conspiratorially. _"Let's see what he knows…"_

" _Don't just go peeking inside people's lives like that."_

" _Are you telling me you're not the_ least _bit curious? He works in Peter's building, and it's not the 'weirdest' thing he's seen?"_ Emma returned and, admittedly, Chat was a little curious. _"It's_ fine _. I'm not looking for some dirty secrets, just recent events. Hm… name's Max Dillon, part time electrician, new on the job… huh, that's… weird."_

Chat blinked. The man, Max, was back to whatever he did as if they weren't there, and she knew Emma had made them invisible to him, as if he had never seen them enter.

Likely, she had already erased or made him forget about the bit with the animals. Chat hoped it was the latter, she didn't care for the idea of Emma's liberal use of her abilities when it came to affecting people's lives without good reason. Fortunately, Emma wasn't that amoral with them.

" _What?"_

" _He was saved from an accident not too long ago,"_ Emma mused in thought. _"Almost got hit by lightning… while he was working on an aquarium for electric eels. Yeesh, really dodged a bullet there, pal."_

Chat felt the same. "Who saved him?" She asked aloud, knowing Max couldn't hear them anyway. She already had a fair idea, anyhow. Who else _could_ have saved him? Sure, she heard rumors of other people saving people in New York, but none with the frequency and single mindedness of Peter.

" _Not Spider-Man,_ " Emma thought back, giving her a smug side glance. _"It was dark, and happened so_ fast _, but… a man. In black, and fast enough to get him out of the way of the lightning, I'd guess. One second he was there, and the next he wasn't. Geez guy, next time don't work underneath an open skylight during a thunderstorm,"_ Emma rolled her eyes. " _Matter of fact, I'll do you a favor. Let's change that interest in electricity to something safer, you seem like a good guy. Now, go out there and be the best… hotel manager you can be"_

"Emma…" Chat said warily. If she thought she could improve the guy's life, then… Chat trusted her. Still, the moral implications were—

"For people who can't read minds," Emma sniffed like a princess, or a queen, flipping her shoulder length blonde locks back. "And thanks. For believing in me." Chat nodded. "Now, let's see… oh, that's nice."

"What is?"

"He's a fan of Spider-Man. Peter saved his sister. She's recuperating in the hospital and… oh. _Hospital bills_. That explains the second job." Emma quieted. "He really cares about his sister, too." She frowned.

A rather startling change had happened to Emma when they met Peter. Before, she was, in most senses of the word, self-centered. She rarely used her telepathy to help anyone other than herself or Chat, but Peter had made an impression on her. Every once in a while she'd tell a mother to be more loving and dedicated to her children or a father to be less focused on work and go to that soccer game of his kid's.

The best thing she had done, in Chat's opinion, was to 'convince' bullies to stop being bullies and that everyone who bullied or ridiculed Peter would feel a sharp pain in a very _sensitive_ place whenever they did it, regardless of gender.

So, in her own right, Emma was a hero, albeit of a less bombastic variety. She'd scoff at the title up and down, and had, but her lack of care for the lack of attention for her deeds was telling. Emma had always _loved_ attention, to be noticed and recognized. Peter didn't.

"I _don't_ like that boy," Emma groaned without any venom, almost certainly hearing Chat's thoughts just as Chat began to hide a growing smile behind her hands. She sighed exaggeratedly. "I _really_ don't."

"Mhm," Chat rolled her eyes.

At the very least, she did like Peter enough to not erase herself from his memories like she did to everyone else. The blonde doubtlessly heard _that_ and scoffed, but said nothing of it.

"God, _gooders_ ," she threw her hands up, shrugging as if to say, 'What can you do?'

"I'm going to give him access to my bank account. All he'll know is that someone offered to pay off the hospital bills and… get him some _new clothes,_ God!" Emma grimaced, looking affronted, justifiably so in her own mind by Max's apparent lack of an extended wardrobe.

"Green and yellow, _everywhere_! I'd turn him into a _metrosexual_ if he didn't spend all of his money on his sister!" Chat grunted at her reprovingly. "Okay, I _wouldn't_ , but I'd certainly think about it!"

"Won't the bank, I don't know, stop him from taking the money out?" Chat asked, sparing a glance at the man.

Emma waved her hand, as if that alone would swipe all of the world's problems away. In her case, it pretty much could. "I'll take care of it."

Chat smiled. "You're the best, Emma."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"All it took was meeting Peter to stop you from being a _bitch_ ," Chat snickered, her voice quieting extremely toward the end. She covered her mouth conspiratorially as if she had just gotten away with something devious.

Emma rolled with the jab, almost managing to look apathetic. But the smirk she had was tight, almost embarrassed, and she sniffed imperiously to fend it off, simultaneously managing to look both proud and cold to Chat.

The blonde looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow as if she Chat wasn't as impressive as she thought she was. "Oh, you're growing up. All it took for you to stop being a wallflower is a couple of wet dreams about a boy that jumps around in sleuth-clothes. Let's go get your boyfriend, girl."

Chat closed her eyes. "He's… he's not my boyfriend."

" _Oh_ , that's right _!_ _Girlfriends_ typically don't _stalk_ their boyfriends. Let's go find your _unwitting prey_ , then."

"Emma!"

* * *

 _Meanwhile._

"You know, when I was you're age I actually cared about embarrassing myself in front of women."

Peter Parker, aged sixteen, looked up witheringly from his plate, his head was flat against the table and the pile of food on his plate being enough to make it difficult to see anything other than the flat, yet amused gazed of his counterpart staring at him.

"Just putting that out there."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?" He said slowly, knowing that whenever his counterpart brought something out of the blue, it was likely because he was planning something.

"Oh, nothing. Just that I was more socially conscious when I was your age. Not that it did me any good, obviously," the older Peter shrugged.

" _Obviously,"_ Peter rolled his eyes.

"I actually think I turned out well. Well, well enough. Women certainly don't complain," he smirked, and looked to the side. In the kitchen, Mei Parker was washing the dishes after an early morning, humming to herself.

Peter twitched. "Please, no more nightmares."

"You _actually_ got nightmares?" The older Peter chuckled.

"No, because my nightmare's _nightmares_ scared _those_ away _!"_ Peter hissed _._

"Oh, well that's good. You can thank me later." The assassin smiled, blinking once when Peter picked up his fork. He moved an inch to the side, narrowly avoiding it, though Peter knew it was by taunting intention, and soundly caught the end of the fork. With his fingertip.

Stick em powers were… pretty badass.

"You're throwing is getting better," his doppelganger said, inspecting the fork before tossing it back with expert precision. Peter attempted to do as his older self had done, but was sloppier. He moved to the side and did the catching motion all in one, which ended up making it miss entirely, and he flailed, though managed to catch the fork in his palm. "Still need practice, though."

Peter frowned. Practice, practice, practice. That's all it ever was. He wasn't exactly complaining, but… "Why are you doing this?" He asked, placing the fork on his plate. "Training me, I mean."

His counterpart looked at him blankly. "…I didn't think you were that stupid, kiddo," he said shaking his head. Peter scowled. "I'm doing this to _protect_ you. I thought that was obvious."

It was difficult to see the underlying message when Peter was struggling to lift an SUV well into the afternoon, nonstop, or when his superhuman stamina was being pushed to the limits during weekend sparring sessions that left him winded and bruised. Or, most importantly, when he found that he really annoyed… himself.

"Yeah, obvious," he scoffed. "From what, though? _Besides_ being a 'teenage vigilante risking my life for a city that doesn't appreciate me', by the way," he added, remembering how his counterpart would say that the New York from his universe would turn against Jesus Christ himself depending on the day of the week.

That comment actually gave the older Peter some pause. Peter had quickly learned that when he didn't have a reply at the ready, it was because he was thinking deeply. And then, his doppelganger frowned. It was a small expression that he only noticed because it was such a change from his usual, amused smile or his stoic expression.

The older Peter clicked his tongue. "From the people trying to kill me."

Peter blinked. "…Mind being a bit specific here? You're an _assassin_ , don't people try to do that all the time?"

"I _was_ also Spider-Man, so, yeah, you have me there. And no, the smart ones know better by now," the older Peter said, shrugging his shoulders, the action belying the weight of his words. "It's just one person after me, but I- no, he's not alone. Like a Vanguard, and there are more of him. A lot more."

Peter snorted. "Like what, clones?"

His counterpart grinned. "No, a _family_ of clones. Backups of backups of backups. And they want me. _Us_."

"Like, _us, us? Or…" Peter trailed off. "Spider-Men…"_

"That's the conclusion I came to, anyways. Before I got here I was fighting him. I was his only target, like a heat seeking missile. He actively sought me out and ignored everything else. In my experience, that single-minded doggedness implies an agenda."

"What makes them so dangerous?" Peter asked, taking to heart the lessons of the importance of intel his older counterpart had instilled in him. They had been of the more enjoyable, less physically painful, variety.

The older Peter smiled a little. He almost looked proud. "He sapped my powers. Drained them. Normally that wouldn't be bad, except-"

"How could that not _possibly_ be bad?"

"Because my powers were fading fast, like a dying battery. He was drawn to me like a moth to a streetlight, but what happens when that light goes out?"

"The moth moves on…" Peter muttered.

"Exactly. Only, the bad thing was I could barely keep up. Not only was he draining my powers, he was _resetting_ them. At the time, I was barely staying alive. All I had was my-" and he tapped his head at this.

"…Don't ever tell anyone about that, you understand me?" He said, seriously. "Your spider-sense. Not allies, not cops on the street. Don't do it unless you are _positive_ they can be trusted."

"Alright, alright," Peter winced guiltily. His counterpart smacked him on the forehead in a blur so fast he barely saw it coming. "Ow!"

"You did it, didn't you?" His younger self's look was all the answer he needed. The older Peter rolled his eyes. "Anyways, the problem lies in what would happen if he came to a world with someone like _you."_

"Like me?" Peter asked, mildly affronted. "What exactly does that-"

"Young, fresh, new. Stupid, unskilled, naïve. Weak, easy prey, dead. Take your pick," the older Peter said coldly. "The only reason I was still _alive_ is because I was fighting to _survive,_ kill or be killed, Peter, just like he was. And thanks to that aura of weakness that sapped my powers back to their _stock_ , it was _barely_ enough. What do you think would happen if he came to another world where Peter Parker, fresh out of highschool, is Spider-Man? The kind of Peter Parker who thinks that no one deserves to die, ever, and refuses to kill in self-defense?"

Peter swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. "He'd… die." He said, not feeling comfortable with picturing another version of himself biting the dust. In his mind he envisioned a monster of a man relentlessly pursuing him… and killing everyone he cared about to get to him. Peter scowled. That was _exactly_ why he didn't want to bring Mei, or anyone else, close to him, and-

"Ow!" He tended to his forehead again, rubbing it gingerly. "What was _that_ for?"

"Because you're thinking that the people you care about will be better off without you." His counterpart said simply. "Not entirely wrong, but that's only if you leave them in the dark. It's not a good way of thinking, regardless. You'll be worse off without them, and if they truly cared about you, they wouldn't want that," he said, looking at Mei. "If they really loved you they'd stand by your side no matter what."

Peter noticed the look. "But isn't that what you did? Distanced yourself?"

"There wasn't much to distance myself _from_ , kid," the older Peter said easily. "And even now, I'm not alone. Logan and Alex and Nebo, and even Fury, to name a few. Mei. You. And I'm not going to let you die. That's why I'm doing this, why I'm teaching you."

Caught off guard by the sincerity of his tone, Peter looked away. Then, something disturbing occurred to him. "What about… the other Earths? Where you-me- _we're not… ready?"_

The older Peter looked down. "I can't worry about that. I'm _here_ , and while I am I will do my best to make sure that doesn't happen to you. Fortunately, considering the time dilation inherent in other universes, if I land there, or find a way to go there willingly, I can appear when I want."

Peter made to comment, but he was cut off. "Speaking of, I've been to a lot of worlds, Peter. There isn't many…. us-es out there like _me_ , with _my_ views. A few where I'm a serial killer that gets possessed by an impressionable alien and turns into a mass murderer. There's more than a few where Peter Parker is dead. Some where he never became Spider-Man, and some where he wasn't born, and Richard and Mary Parker had no children.

"Regardless, in every world where I'm like _you_ , this lionhearted kid who just wants to help people, I have a saying."

"Great power-"

"Great responsibility. In every single world like that Peter Parker beats himself over the head with that, just like you were when I met you, using it as a punishment, as an excuse. I think the difference between me and them is what _I_ say. _'Do what you can, when you can, as best you can.'_ The world _cannot_ ask anymore of you. If they do? Screw 'em."

"W-Wait, so is that what you want me to be? Like you? A _killer?"_ He unintentionally spat, and immediately felt like a heel for it. His older self hadn't deserved that.

"I'd rather you didn't, actually," his older self replied congenially, the comment rolling off him like water on a duck's back. "Not because I don't think you can make it – kid you can accomplish _so_ much. I want you to live as best you can, and I'd rather you didn't end up like those other mopey sad-sacks who beat themselves up constantly and live in rundown apartments because their moral compasses don't allow them to seek _more_. I want you to be better than them, I _want_ you to be alright.

"I want you to be a better Peter Parker, a better _Spider-Man_ , than I was." He said finally. "Smarter, more skilled, stronger, faster, everything. I want you and everyone you care about to _live_ , so you don't have to live through what I and countless other Peter Parkers had to. That's why I'm doing this."

It was the most intense Peter had ever seen him. The cold look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a fire, a determination that hadn't been there. Here was a _purpose_ , a _drive,_ and… Peter didn't know how to feel. He immediately thought he wasn't worth it, that some other version of himself deserved this chance, this opportunity. Why him? What had he done? He was just some dumb kid who let his uncle get killed and likely everyone he ever cared about if it wasn't for his morally questionable alternate self-

"Ow!" Again, his hand went to his head where, to his horror, he found a small knot. " _Why?"_

"You're thinking something self-deprecating again," the older Peter said coolly, now entirely calmed down. It was as if the previous conversation hadn't happened. "Don't do that. Be better, spectacular, sensational, whatever. Just not that."

Rolling his eyes, Peter snorted. "How about amazing?"

His older self grimaced. " _God_ no." He paused, and looked at Mei again, and then at his younger counterpart for a long stretch of seconds before speaking again. "…I won't let anything happen to you or your family, Peter. I promise."

Peter's expression softened. "Just make sure you don't let anything happen to you. _We're_ Parkers, right?" He asked, and held out his hand.

His doppelganger snorted softly. He accepted the handshake. "Right. Parkers."

"…One of which had _sex_ with my Aunt," Peter added, grinning viciously and putting his strength into the squeeze. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to do anything, and when the pressure was returned he definitely felt it, but refused to admit it.

The older Peter grinned at him. "Well, that's because she isn't _my_ Aunt. Sucks to be _you…"_ he said, retracting his hand, and Peter scoffed at the poor joke as he rubbed his now aching hand. Luckily, it'd be healed within the half-hour.

He blinked as his plate was pushed in front of him. "Finish eating." His counterpart said. "I'm taller than just about every other version of me out there, and that's because I was lucky enough to make up for the lack of sleep and nutrients I got as a teenager. Trust me, people saying they expected you to be taller gets _really_ annoying."

Peter grimaced. "I know the feeling," he said, and started to eat.

"Eat everything there, yes even the crust too. Then go get dressed."

"Why?"

"Because like I said, when I was your age I was smart enough to care about how I looked to women. Not smart enough to do something about it. Be better, kid, be-"

"Superior?"

"…No," the former vigilante said with an indecipherable, but definitely displeased expression. "Be… _astonishing_ to women."

"How's about marvelous? Or adventurous?"

"What? No, you're not some gay ice-dancer, not that I care what people do with their lives. Be astonishing, now shut up and eat."

* * *

Peter hummed to himself as the vision played out before him. He had tuned in to his 'spider-sense o' vision' as his younger self had taken to calling it, at exactly the right time. The two girls entered the building and, expectedly, saw Max Dillon, the newest manager for the apartment building. Unknown to anyone, he was Electro, but that was in a different world. Here he was simply Max Dillon, an earnest young man trying to pay off his sister's hospital bills. Peter had that taken care of.

" _I won't let anything happen to you or your family. I promise."_

With prescience, Peter watched bemusedly as Emma peered into Max's mind and looked at his memories. Admittedly he was surprised that she didn't invade into his private life, and further surprised when she actually did something good, and turned Max's interest in electricity into something far safer.

The Emma from his world would have never 'wasted her time' with something like that, and she wouldn't have afforded the man the privacy either. Peter had a confident suspicion that it could all be attributed to his younger self and Chat, respectively.

There were bound to be differences in universes. Some small, some humongous. Peter knew that the only difference wasn't going to be the fact that Mei Parker was particularly reverent and eager in bed…. Or that Charle's Xavier's School was barely heard of. However, his younger self knowing, and being friends with, Emma Frost's younger self had been a welcome surprise.

That she was a protective big sister to a kind young girl like Sophia Sanduvall was even more welcomed. The name resonated with Peter, and if his memory wasn't failing him, which was unlikely, Sophia Sanduval was… a fan. A big fan, and was good with animals.

So, there were some universal constants amidst the differences, as it turned out.

In his world, after he had begun to work with Logan more, which ended up with him becoming close with the X-Men and aided by Professor Xavier because the way constantly seeing the future had troubled him, he had… come to know Emma. She was at first ambivalent and cold to him, as she was to everyone else, and was the type of woman he would have been wholly intimidated by in his younger years. But Peter was different now, and responded with the same amount of ambivalence, and patronizing smiles.

Determined to pay the mutants back for their kindness, Peter had become a stalwart guardian for them, using his clairvoyance when he could, as best he could. This had prevented several deaths of Jean Grey and Charles Xavier, to name a couple of specific events, as well as the separation of Jean Grey and Scott Summers. Emma… had not liked that.

Thus, her opinion of him had quickly fallen. Peter didn't care, though he suspected that if Xavier hadn't trained him to have mental shields on par with Logan, so as to protect him from rogue psychics aiming to use his constant and peerless clairvoyance for their own gain, Emma would have done… something to him. He just had that effect on women.

Not that she had done nothing, but her pawing at his back and making him lose hearing in one ear was hardly unpleasant. He was still surprised at how gentle and cooing a lover she could be. When she wasn't being jealous, of course. Alex enjoyed poking fun at her while she tried to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head.

In all honesty, he had just wanted to see how far Kitty Pryde's interest in men named _Peter_ was. He hadn't acted on it. Jubilee was more his type, but Logan was particularly stubborn about that, and Peter hadn't even attempted to act on the signals Laura had given him. And, as it turned out, he hadn't needed to.

The last time he had seen Emma she was affixing him with a particularly vehement and similarly ineffectual glare. Peter wondered what her reaction would be to learning that he was, for the moment, not walking (that) Earth. However, from what he could tell of _this_ Emma, she was much kinder, and slightly more morally aligned.

The former vigilante leaned in the doorway of his younger self's room, watching as the young vigilante dug through his closet. Clothes flew out frantically and with more desperation as the younger Peter struggled to find something to wear.

Mei, noticing the commotion, came to inspect. She walked up and said, "Hey," kissing him soundly on the lips when she was sure the other Peter wasn't looking, and peered curiously into the room. "What's all the racket?"

Peter pointed flatly at himself. "Girls," he said simply. "I opened his eyes. No more clashing clothes."

Mei's eyes widened and she grinned. "Really? This I have to see!" she whispered excitedly, and started wrangling her hands. "Oh, I'm so proud. He hasn't put this much effort into clothing since the 9th grade science fair."

Peter smirked. "When he was six, right?"

"How'd you-"

"He told me," Peter lied soundly, though technically it was true.

"I'm not used to this feeling of desperation," the younger Peter groaned. He turned and grimaced when he saw Mei. "Oh, no. Please don't make me embarrass myself in front of you too."

Mei grinned and clapped her hands. "I've been waiting for this day to come," was all she said. The young vigilante turned a hopeful gaze to his counterpart, who was whistling, looking off to the side.

"Oh, did you need something?" His counterpart slumped.

"Nothing, never mind, just going through an existential crisis, i.e. girls." He muttered, ignoring the inelegant snort his older self gave. "At least I have the chance to go through that, I guess," he said, looking at the two of them.

"Yes, and be grateful," Mei said pointedly.

" _Whoo_. Teenage _drama._ Yay _!_ "

Peter stepped forward and started to sort out clothes. In a few seconds, he held out an assortment of them. "Here," he said, and dropped onto his counterpart's head what he didn't take, leaving him looking like a cloth-monster. "Take your pick, but… red and blue suits you better, so I'd go with that." Grimacing, his counterpart trudged off into the bathroom, leaving a trail of fallen clothes in his wake.

Mei saddled up next to him. "You're going to embarrass him, aren't you?" She asked after a moment.

"What? _No._ Me? _Never."_

"Translation: What, me? Never no." She said flatly. "Are they- they're on their way right now, _aren't_ they? You had one of your-" she gestured wildly about his head, making a goofy noise that ended with her hair tossed about. Peter nodded. "So early, too? Who?"

"A girl named Chat, and a girl named Emma," he replied.

"Oh, Chat's such a sweetheart. I haven't met this Emma, though," Mei said thoughtfully.

The former vigilante smiled wryly, knowing exactly why. "I get the feeling she's… nice. For Peter."

"Well, I trust you," Mei said without hesitation, and kissed him again. "Oh! That reminds me, the lotto ticket that you picked out for me? It _won!"_ She jumped into his arms and cheered. " _Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars!"_

"Just don't spend it all on shoes," Peter joked, pretending to be pushed back by the light slap she gave his chest. "Also, before you leave for work, I needed to tell you that I'm going to be away for a few days."

She froze, looking at him carefully. "You mean…" and she trailed off at that. "Is it dangerous?"

"More so if I'm not there," he replied easily.

Mei nodded. "Just… come back, alright? Please," her voice was muffled as he hugged her. "You've done so much for us. You don't get to walk away now. You're stuck in our web," she looked up at him, standing much shorter and grinning goofily.

"That was awful, and you should feel awful."

She smiled softly into his chest. "I don't. I feel… A- _Mei_ -zing." As he sighed, she broke out into giggles. "Okay, alright that was the last one. I know better to walk into _that_ parlor _."_

Peter rubbed his temple. Yes, there were _universal_ differences.

The bathroom door opened and his younger self walked out, fully dressed and ready for the day. His clothes, a dark red dress shirt that was on the baggier side to hide his slightly taller and more muscular form, and dark blue jeans. He looked uncertainly at himself, adjusting the clothes, and then pointedly at _himself_ , deciding to ignore the fact that he was currently hugging his aunt in a blatantly non-platonic way, as well as the fact that the obvious similarities between both Peters flew right over her head.

Hopefully, the younger Peter thought, she'd never notice. That'd be awkward. To her credit though, she jumped away and cleared her throat. "I'm gonna-" she pointed elsewhere, and then left. He joined his older self in sighing.

"I heard you two talking. Where are you going?" He asked, for once thankful that he had greatly enhanced senses when it came to hearing them.

He had a brief suspicion, that his older self would be going to face the person who was chasing after him. As uncomfortable as Peter was with thinking of other versions of himself dying, that thought left him feeling dread.

"Easy," his doppelganger responded by laying a heavy hand on his shoulder, apparently picking up on his thoughts. " _I'm_ going to save a King." He said, grinning.

"…A King?" Peter repeated disbelievingly. Then, he snorted, his fears allayed. "An assassin saving a king instead of killing him. _That'd_ make for a great story."

The older Peter shrugged and started walking toward the front of the apartment. Peter fell into step next to him without thinking. "Probably, but I don't read my own press. It's bad for you," he smirked wryly. "Like you heard, I'll be gone for a few days. Stay out of trouble."

"What am I, a child?"

"A super powered child. With a curfew. Stay out of trouble," he repeated. "Or else-"

His hand lashed out to flick Peter in the head, but the young vigilante's spider-sense blared, not feeling as if it was muffled and underwater when facing his doppelganger for once, and Peter stepped to the side with a swift, albeit often too late repeated movement.

"Aha- ow!" He grumbled and rubbed his forehead.

"That's what I mean," the older Peter admonished. "Stay _moving_ and thinking ahead. Catching someone while they're distracted is the _basics_ , but it can decide whether or not you'll be in trouble later. Use that for you, not against you," he said seriously. Sighing, Peter nodded. "Also, the curfew for afternoon patrols is lifted. Your grades are back up and you're in the good habit of taking care of yourself."

Peter grinned widely. "So I can start patrolling after school again?" He asked, and then frowned. "I just realized I have a serious problem – what kid looks forward to risking his _life_?"

His counterpart smirked. "You're catching on _._ Also, five, four, three, two…"

"Wha-"

They arrived at the door, and at the end of the countdown the older Peter swung it open, much to his counterpart's surprise, just before someone started to knock on it. That someone, specifically, was Chat.

Peter blinked and waved absently at her, and she waved back, looking embarrassed. Then she looked at him, and at his counterpart, and her eyes widened. Behind her Peter could see Emma with a similar expression.

Chat's choked noises continued for a few seconds before the older Peter spoke. "So, who's going first? The girls who know Peter Parker is ' _thweep thweep_ '," he looked directly at Emma, much to her shock, "or why I look like Peter Parker, only _far_ more handsome?" He grinned. "I think… ladies first."

* * *

 **Deleted scene: This one didn't make the final cut, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it out.  
**

At age sixteen Peter Parker had a very dated way of dressing. His Uncle Ben was a fan of ties and smart, beige dress pants and business shoes while May Parker had favored round glasses for his poor eyesight and a vest and tie to really 'show off his brains'. Along with his haircut, this set the Parker family back a good deal, but there were few things Ben and May Parker would have denied their nephew. Still, it made him stick out like a sore thumb in school. He had been a walking stereotype.

Peter Parker at age sixteen dressed… lazily, to the former vigilante's eyes. Perhaps it was the dozens of missions he had taken that required infiltration ad dressing up anywhere on the spectrum from casual to business-formal, but the older Peter couldn't help but look at his younger self's wardrobe and sigh. Clothes made the man, and if the Peter Parker of this world's get up was any indication, it was obvious what type of young man he was.

Similar to his counterparts, the younger Spider-Man hadn't had much in the way of a wardrobe. What he did have was plain and unimpressive, but purposeful. Sweatshirts and jeans, a couple of pairs of sweatpants and slacks, and three pairs of shoes, one for the winter months. Peter, like his doppelganger had once been, was practical and didn't care for fashion and scarcely for presentation.

The latter two hadn't changed much and the former vigilante hadn't cared to change them, but he did educate his younger self how to dress and present himself. And he had bought him a new wardrobe. At the very least his counterpart wouldn't be as he was in his school days. He'd be better.

"I feel like punching myself," the sixteen year old Spider-Man grumbled to himself inside his room. He stood in front of a new armoire stocked with clothes, his arms stretched out at either side.

His counterpart was also present, taking advantage of the conversation Emma and Chat were having in the hallway for now. He smiled to himself. Chat was cute, caring, and good for his counterpart. Emma was very surprising, but that was in no way a bad thing.

He took his younger self's hand and balled it into a fist, and smack himself in the jaw with it. "There."

Peter did it again with slightly more force. It was enough to break the jaw of a regular person but the assassin didn't even look like he felt it.

"Are you done?"

"Hmph."

"I'll take that as a yes," the older Peter remarked. "Trust me on this, kid. In a few years' time you'll be _thanking_ me."

Peter's arms slapped against his sides. "I dotrust you. I just feel… embarrassed."

Smiling out of more than just a small ball of pride that ballooned in him, the older Peter ruffled his counterpart's head with a raised eyebrow. "Feeling embarrassed about looking good? God, you _do_ have a problem kid."

Peter didn't deny that. He flailed and smacked the hand away, huffing. "Why do you keep calling me kid? I'm you, I should be… I don't know, junior- _me_ , or something."

The former vigilante chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like something I would say. 'Kid' is something a good friend of mine always called me. Never pissed me off as much as it does you, but I can understand why he did it."

"Why?"

"Because it's fun to piss people off," the older Peter said as if it were obvious.

In the doorway Mei Reilly Parker smiled. "Should I be worried you're planning on turning my nephew into an internet troll?" She asked teasingly.

"A _good looking_ troll," the older Peter replied without even looking to see her. His younger self was more surprised and she waved at him. "And you should be worried that I _not_ turn him into one. No one likes someone with a stick up their ass."

Mei held back a sordid joke for the sake of her nephew, that he might not suspect what was going on. "I should hope not, but I'm not sure I enjoy the idea of my nephew becoming some sort of practical jokester."

The older Peter kneeled down to pick up a different shirt and inspected it. After a moment, he nodded and lobbed it in his counterpart's face. It landed on his head, looking like a too small ghost costume.

"Not practical, _tactical_. In a fight no one expects the quiet person to suddenly pull the enemy's pants down and write 'I heart Leonardi' on their ass."

Mei threw up her hands. The younger Peter blinked at his doppelganger. "You actually do that?"

"When I'm feeling tricky? Several times. Though when it came to women, I was far more _tactful_ ," he bowed to Mei, causing her to giggle. "I put 'Spidey's #1 Gal' instead. Natasha hated me for that one."

Elektra did as well. And Emma Frost. Silver enjoyed it, as did Titania. Laura however had criticized his choice of marker because it was dry erase; she'd even insisted on getting a tattoo. Logan insisted on trying to kill him, especially when Jubilee got what was later revealed to be a _temporary_ Spider-Man tattoo.

Mei looked her nephew over appraisingly, nodding at the simple but handsome outfit. "Going to break some hearts today, I see," she grinned at his expression. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone. Just don't make too many girls cry," she snickered to herself as she left the room.

Meticulously making sure she was gone, because talking about girls with the woman who raised him would never not be awkward, Peter turned to his counterpart. "…Natasha?" He asked incredulously. "As in… Natasha _Romanov_ , Natasha? The _Black Widow_ , Natasha? Of the _Avengers,_ Natasha?"

"She has a freckle underneath her right buttcheek that coincides with one on her right breast," his doppelganger nodded matter-of-factly, while keeping to himself that the only reason he found out was because she attacked him, and when it was apparent she was losing, she tried to kill him, so he had pantsed her in retaliation. She _really_ tried to kill him afterwards, and for her efforts she received the conveniently prepared tattoo, courtesy of his spider-sense. It was a _friendly neighborhood_ kind of consolation prize.

His younger self looked up to him with a look of disbelief and admiration all in one. "How did you-"

"Stick with me and you'll learn a few things, kid. Like how to make a woman so obsessed with you she'll have sex with you just to relieve the frustration."

"I-" the young Spider-Man started, raising a finger. "You-wha-wait a se-" he soon stopped and crossed his arms, looking troubled. Then, he took a deep breath and asked, _"Why?_ Can you answer that? No bullcrap, just…" he clapped his hands and closed his eyes. _"Why."_

"She tried to kill me. I don't like it when people try to kill me."

"Usually when people try to kill you it ends with them dying, I'd wager," he quipped, rolling his eyes.

"I am an assassin, so I did some backstabbi-"

"Stop! So you had _sex_ with her. Do you do that with every woman that tries to kill you?"

"Now that you mention it-"

"Jesus Chri-"

"In my defense, it's a much better way to spend my time. Pleasurable, non-fatal impalement if you will. It also dissuades them from trying in the future. They enjoy it, I enjoy it. So why not?"

The younger Peter hurried to add, " _Because_ should only have sex with someone you really care about?"

The older Peter blinked. "Oh, you sweet, poor naïve boy." He sighed. He rocked his hand from side to side. "Anyway, I _care_ about Na- eh. She tried to kill me, you're right. Have to draw a line at some point. "

"But not sleeping with a woman that tried to _kill_ you?" The younger Peter asked incredulously. "What if they try again? Or _during?"_

"In order, no, they don't, and they are physically incapable of doing so."

Peter's mouth moved, but no words came forth. Finally, "…I cannot believe what I'm hearing."

"Well, if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?" The young Spider-Man made a small strangling motion with trembling hands. "I'll take that as a, 'Yes, _me_ , please teach… _you_ , how to be like… the guy I see in the mirror."

"I think a couple thousand of my braincells just died."

"That's what she said."

"I _hate_ you."

"That too, along with, 'I will kill you in your sleep if you tell anyone about this,' in Russian. An empty threat."

"There's 'humble bragging' and then there's being really annoying. That's you, by the way…" Peter groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm the role-model you deserve, _not_ the one you need," the older Peter said sagely, nodding to himself, literally. Peter flipped Peter off.

* * *

 **A/N: And there we go. I like that Assassin and Emma are both super trolls when it comes to their siblings.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"Emma, I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to look inside my head," the former vigilante said, amicably, "It's a waste of time."

The blonde telepath crossed her arms and frowned slightly, though it was obvious that she was at least a little uncomfortable. Before her was the splitting image of Peter, for the most part, and for the rest it was how he would look as a grown man. She wouldn't admit it, but she was… impressed.

"Do I know you?" She asked, and then scoffed at her own question. But the doppelganger spoke with familiarity as though he _knew_ her, and while she knew Peter extremely well thanks to reading his mind… more often than she'd admit, _Peter_ Peter, he didn't know her well enough to relay her person to others.

To her annoyance, the older Peter grabbed his younger self by the shoulders and pulled him in front of him, as though that answered everything. Emma wasn't amused, and was even less so by the too-happy smile on his face. It wasn't cute and boyish as Peter's was, it was… charming and matured.

She scoffed and assumed a distant, clinical view. Peter would grow up to be… very , very attractive. There was no shame in admitting that, but there was annoyance in how the older version of him seemed to know it, going by his confidence. Emma forced herself to stare him down.

She frowned, her hands twitching, and only Chat knew what the small, barely noticeable action met. She started to speak, but the older Peter shook his head and cut her off. "Don't worry, Sophia," he said, and his tone was markedly more gentle with her than it was with Emma, "She couldn't read my mind if she tried," he said, confusing her to no end.

"We'll see about that," Emma said, and to everyone else it looked like she was about to throw a tantrum. Her cheeks puffed and her face reddened, and then she _did_ know him, and know everything, and wished she didn't. " _Agh_! _What?!"_

She jumped suddenly, reeling, and pointed a shaking finger at the former vigilante accusingly. Chat had never seen her so frazzled. Her hair was upset and a mess, and she was panting, and her pale skin was as red as a strawberry. "What… _What_ was _that?!"_

The older Peter smiled indulgently at her, as if she was a child. "You looked like you were having a really hard time, so I threw you a bone."

"W-Wha- _ugh_ , do _not_ throw me a _bone!"_ Emma seethed, stomping her foot, trying to get those… _i_ _mages_ out of her mind.

"Oh, am I not your type?" The older Peter asked. Then he snapped his fingers. "Right _, he_ is." He shook his younger self slightly, who was, more or less, standing there with a resigned impression.

"I know I say I hate you… a lot," the teenage hero said, and rubbed his nose, "And I do, don't get me wrong, but can you please, _please_ not terrorize my friends?"

"Your friends know who you are, you know," his counterpart said, looking pointedly and knowingly at Emma. "Are you happy about that?"

"I'd be happier if I could have this conversation with them _alone."_ The younger Peter frowned, knowing that was hardly the most pertinent thing at hand. "Just me and them."

"It _is_ just you and them, though?" The former vigilante pointed at Emma, Chat, Peter, and Peter. "Yep."

" _Me,_ singular, _one_ ," Peter said with a false calm that was obviously wavering. "And _no_ , don't even think about saying it! I know and _you_ know what you're about to say, don't do it."

"Are you sure? I had a real humdinger of a _pun_ , but I could find something else to say. How about this: they certainly wouldn't mind being alone with you, because-"

"Get _out_!"

"You're _welcome,_ junior-me!" The assassin cackled rather than chuckled as Peter shoved him out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him.

Now the teenager was heaving, his skin more than a little reddened. He glared at the door, unable to look on either side of him where Chat and Emma stood looking at him apprehensively and at the door with a wide and twitching eye, respectively.

"…Sorry about that," he sighed.

"Nothing to apologize for," a voice said, and they all turned around to see the older Peter sitting on the windowsill across the room. "Oh, am I interrupting something? Pretend I'm not here, please."

* * *

If there was ever a time that Peter was grateful for his Aunt Mei, it was now. She had, albeit with obvious reluctance, convinced his doppelganger to leave him and the two girls alone, though he could tell she wanted to be there to see them talk too. She was hardly the 'good guy' of the two, simply the lesser evil.

Logically, he knew that he should be grateful for the both of them – after all, his counterpart was the only reason he no longer had to keep secrets and his Aunt was fully supportive of him being Spider-Man – but it was hard to be glad his counterpart was there when, now, Emma couldn't look at him without scowling and turning away, her blonde locks smacking her in the face. Like she was doing now.

The blonde sat on his bed and looked… _embarrassed._ Chat could think of no other word for it, and never thought she'd see the day. _Emma Frost_ , blushing! It was such an odd sight she almost felt a little worried, but there too many things she had in her had at that moment, the chief of which being not, in fact, the older Peter she had seen that knew that she knew Peter was Spider-Man, but the fact that she was in Peter's room, sitting next to him on the couch across from his bed.

She had her priorities.

"E-Emma?" she asked weakly with a glance at her surrogate sister, who looked at Peter oddly. The blonde made a noise most similar to a chipmunk and turned away in a huff, crossing her arms. She deserved commendation for trying to retain her regal disposition, no matter how marred it was by her obvious embarrassment.

"Uh…" Chat trailed off. Emma was… not helping, so now it was pretty much her and Peter in this room, which she gathered was his, judging by how clean it was. That surprised her. She had always expected him to be quite messy, and his room to be even more so. By it being clean, her opener of teasing him about being messy, vanished. She fumbled, desperately reaching for something to say, and decided to compliment him on his clothes, or his hair, or how handsome he looked, when, "Nice… room?" fumbled out of her mouth and she grimaced.

Peter gave her a sheepish before he groaned. "I am so, _so_ sorry."

"What? _No!"_ Chat exclaimed, covered her face. " _I'm_ sorry! I invaded your privacy and-" Emma made a noise at that, "and I-I… I betrayed your trust. Well, Emma did, but I didn't help! And- and I knew you were, you know, and I didn't tell you, no matter how worried I was for you, and I just let you go it _alone_ , and-"

"You were worried? For me?" Peter asked, more surprised than clueless.

Chat looked at him as if he was somewhat dull, but not stupid, which made the expression extremely fond-looking. " _Duh! Let's see,"_ she huffed, and started counting off reasons, "You're a teenager risking your life every _day_ , working on your own with no one aware of what you do and you have no support, and let's not forget that you're my _best friend_ and I _care_ about you _!_ "

"…This conversation is starting to sound _really_ familiar," he grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. However, his Aunt had said _nephew,_ and his doppelganger had said _'my stupid, stupid younger self'_.

Chat scoffed. "Of _course_ I'm going to worry about you… but, then Spider-Man started to appear a lot less, and you were in school a lot more, and you looked… happier? So I was happy for you. You seemed so… much _better_ ," she frowned, quieting considerably. "But we barely had any time to talk anymore after that. It was _study, study, study,_ with you, and then afterschool you were gone. It was like we weren't even friends anymore. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Chat," Peter brought himself to say.

Chat didn't need to look at him to know he was kicking himself; she could hear it in his voice, and didn't like it. She wanted to say more, telling him that it really was alright, but… and that's when she thought of something else.

She was in his room, in his apartment, and this early. The… implications, such as they were, should have been obvious. This was her chance, her best chance and despite how forward she could be, he never seemed to mind, so that meant, or it could have, or hopefully meant that he-

She shyly reached her hand out and touched his hand, squeezing it somewhat weakly. _That_ , she was sure, would show him just how worried she was, and why. Checkmate, atheists.

" _Ugh_ ," the only other person in the room scoffed, sounding exasperated.

The two teenagers jumped, startled, and Emma shook her head at the two of them. "Chat, you-" she started, visibly attempting to calm herself down and doing a poor job of it, if her hair and blush was any indication. She looked at Peter, and then swallowed, and glared solely at Chat like this was all _her_ fault, which it kind of was.

It really, really was, and Chat's blood froze over as Emma smiled a decidedly unfriendly neighborhood smile. Inwardly, Emma cackled, and inwardly she saw images that her immaculate, innocent mind shouldn't have seen. This _was_ all Chat's fault, so she deserved to pay the _price_.

" _No_ -" Chat tried to shout, but it was too late.

"If you haven't gotten the message yet, Chat _likes_ you, Peter," Emma said casually, and started to prim her hair. With the ease of a princess she brushed it past her shoulders, affixing him with a half-lidded gaze and delighting in the way he avoided her eyes as much as she had done to him.

"She went so far as to _stalk_ you to find out your address, and she has-"

"I wasn't _stalking_ him!"

Emma summarily ignored her, only pausing to barely repress a vicious grin when she saw the raven haired girl was trying to not only keep her hands away from her hair so she wouldn't rip it out, but to prevent them from _strangling_ the life out of Emma.

"And _then_ there's the _dreams_. Oh, gosh, I have to say I didn't think she had it in her, but night after night. If they were movies, you'd be a _star_."

"Emma, _don't-"_

Emma smirked. "An _adult_ star."

And that was how Sophia Sanduval snapped.

Next to him, Peter could feel her twitch, and then she tapped him on the shoulder. Reeling from the not-so hidden message of Emma's words, it was quite an effort for him to look at her head on, but if nothing else he had learned how to be calm, however false, in recent weeks.

Of course, it wasn't as if he had a problem with it in any way. Chat was his friend, and though she could be a bit forward at times, and teasing, he liked her too. She was his only friend, a stalwart friend. Kind, outgoing when she was with him, and always wearing a smile. There was hardly a chance to entertain what it would be like if he told her, for several reasons. Chiefly because he was _Spider-Man_ , and before this had all begun he was terrified of losing those he cared about because of the life he lived. With his morning conversation with… himself (he made sure never to mention that to a psychiatrist), that problem was mostly gone.

Secondly it was _because_ of _himself_. The assassin had been training the young vigilante into the ground, leaving barely any room for a social life, and barely enough energy to worry about things like having a girlfriend. When he wasn't training or exercising by bench pressing a u-haul truck, he was limping into bed, but now that Peter knew why, he was, admittedly, grateful.

And finally it was himself. He still saw himself as Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, and Peter Parker in his wildest dreams wouldn't be able to get a girl like Chat to _like_ him, like him, much less any girl. Evidently he had been wrong by one if his doppelgangers stories were true, and wrong _squared_ now.

To his surprise though, Chat wasn't visibly perturbed. In fact, she looked almost… serene. The tilt of her head was curious, and somewhat frightening, but only on every other second when her eyes would go to Emma. Peter actually scooted back but she followed, and soon his back was against the arm of the couch and she was still next to him, frighteningly calm. He could swear he felt the floor begin to shake, and the sound of _screeching_.

However, the young Spider-Man was still altogether unused to trusting his abilities, and so when his enhanced senses picked up something that was certainly not a figment of his imagination, he wrote it off.

"She's right, Peter," Chat sighed, losing her smile for a moment. "I _do…_ like you. A lot," she said, and bit her lip, and they both ignored the obvious elephant in the room, which was, of course, the mention of her dreams. _Neither_ of them forgot, and Emma certainly hadn't.

The blonde crossed her legs imperiously and sat regally on Peter's bed, looking extremely pleased with herself, and, in her mind, for good reason. She had just killed three birds with one stone, after all. Chat and Peter's feelings for each other – settled. Teenage drama – settled.

And, most importantly, Chat's _dues_ for putting Emma into this _mess_ – fucking _paid._

The blonde still couldn't look at Peter for more than a second without turning away and scowling to avoid blushing like some ditzy, airheaded cheerleader, and then scowling harder when she failed miserably at that.

Images of an older him, on top of an older _her,_ or in a myriad of positions that made her head spin and her scoff that she was, admittedly, a little less than pleased that it was her setting Chat up with him rather than herself. But she was mature, an adult, even though she was just barely nineteen. Chat deserved the best, and so did Peter.

At this she cocooned her conscious and subconscious mind to block out the images - _handholding_? _God_ , her older self was a _sap_ , and… Emma would never admit that she was curious if she liked the same. Regardless, she endeavored to look at this clinically, distantly.

She was better than that, and Chat and Peter deserved each other. He was too young for her anyways.

"Chat," Peter said, and the girl flinched. He paused, and grabbed her hand, looking her in the eye. Emma felt like gagging herself with her finger just so she could puke at the display. "I like you too-"

" _Caw!"_

Peter's voice was interrupted by the sharp sound of a raven. The chocolate haired teen and the blonde telepath looked to the window to see a lone bird sitting on the window sill, looking inside with twitchy, undecipherable movements.

And then there was another, and another, and another. Soon the sky was dotted with dozens of birds that, when the space on the sill was full, went to nearby rooftops and powerlines. It was no question that they were all looking inside, though, their beady, almost glowing black eyes centered on that one window, on that one building. On the one blonde, telepathic girl.

That's when the other noises started. Hissing, growling, and _snarling._ Yipping, hooting, and _hissing_. Roaring, mewling, and _stomping._

Everywhere, throughout the city, the sounds of animals extremely agitated and quite frankly _pissed off_ echoed into the air, leaving an unmistakable, undeniable drone. Despite her better thoughts, Emma rose from Peter's bed and went to the window to look outside. Then, on suddenly shaky legs, she went not back to Peter's bed, but to the couch in front where he and Chat sat, and bid him to move over. She sat down and laid her head on his shoulder, and gripped his shirt tightly.

"You're a hero, aren't you?" She asked, frightening with her lack of tone. "You… save people, right?"

Before Peter could even answer she wrenched him close and stared into his eyes. " _Save me."_

Then Peter was wrenched back and Chat kissed him right on the lips, her eyes squeezed shut. When they pulled away Emma was shaking, and Chat was remarkably pleased, and licked her already wet lips, and then kissed Peter again for good measure. "Today is a good day," she said.

And that's when the sound reached a climax, and the birds started to caw again, but not just the ravens. Every bird from sparrow to falcon to eagles to pet owls started to make noise. The sound of mass fluttering drowned out the world, coming closer to the window by the second.

Peter's spider-sense went off.

* * *

Mei stumbled slightly as she followed along with the older Peter's steps. She of course knew him as Reilly, since his name, Ben, was too close to home. The sensation of holding his hand was remarkably… pleasant, she'd say, and tingling, and ticklish. She didn't mind it in the least, and certainly not the way he held her tightly.

He walked her to the door and opened it without a word, and then they were in the halls of the apartment building. Mei thought she heard the sound of glass shattering and turned around. The door to their apartment was still opened but he was still walking. At first she figured he wanted to give Peter and the girls privacy, and then it occurred to her that he wanted to give _them_ privacy, which she certainly didn't mind but instead questioned the timing quite halfheartedly. Then _someone_ , a _girl_ , screamed.

He kept an even pace though and the sound reaching her ears was akin to mass rainfall, albeit duller. Footfalls, no, wings? What?

However, she trusted him, and with good reason. He had saved her family from depression and repaired their bonds, and saved her nephew from a life of secrets and pain, and her from wrinkles and a companionless existence. After Ben passed she wanted no one else, would have no one else, but there had always been _something_ about those Parker boys…

Still, Mei couldn't help but to ask, "Where are we going?"

Benjamin Reilly Parker, a name that made Mei snort at the sheer coincidence of it, simply smiled. "Have you ever seen the movie, _The Birds,_ by Alfred Hitchcock?"

Mei nodded, frowning slightly. She _hated_ that movie.

Reilly gave her a fond look and kissed her. "We're going to go away for a bit, alright?"

She was about to ask why, and then they came to the lobby, and she looked out the doors of the building, and _saw_ why.

Birds. A lot of them. Not dozens, not hundreds. There had to be _thousands,_ and if it wasn't so frightening, it'd be beautiful. Almost at once they looked at the two of them and Reilly actually _snorted_ , and they looked away. Unconsciously, she held him tighter, as he called for the new worker at the front desk.

"Max?"

Mei murmured, unable to help herself. "It's like some sort of _zootopia…"_

* * *

Max Dillon stood, frozen in shock at the sight of the birds and- no, not just birds. _Animals_. This was going to take the crown for 'weirdest thing he's seen all week' and toss it into the toilet. He'd never seen anything like it; dogs and cats and squirrels and hamsters all just… sitting there, in perfect harmony, like the center of a storm. Predators and prey interacting with each other like some sort of utopian society.

Or, like they were _waiting_.

"Y-Yeah?" Max asked, his voice breaking. "Oh, Mr. Parker," he swallowed, turning around to see the taller man. Max respected him, not least of all because he had found him a well-paying job, and most of all because he was _always_ right. It wasn't uncommon for him to ask Max how his little sister was doing, and then suggest he go check up on her. He had been suspicious at first, but every time Reilly Parker had been right, and though it wasn't always a happy occasion, his little sister was always happy to see him. Max had missed her so much because of work, but now it seemed like she was improving, or happier, now that she got to see him regularly. For that he'd always be grateful to the Parkers, and Reilly Parker in particular.

To his surprise the man pulled out his wallet and smacked several bills on the counter. All hundreds. "In the afternoon… five o'clock. Go check up on your sister," he said simply. "Put that in the bank and buy her something nice."

Max looked at the money, shocked. "I-I-"

"And if you go outside, bring an umbrella, alright? If not, feel free to take the day off. I'll cover for you."

"…Thanks, Mr. Parker," the gobsmacked would-be supervillain said, and looked at the money. It'd be enough to take a sizeable chunk out of his sister's hospital bills and easily buy her something special. She was a fan of Spider-Man like he was and had expressed disappointment that there was no merchandise for him. She'd _love_ a t-shirt, or something similar, he just knew it. For that matter, so would he. Representing the guy that saved his only family was the least he could do.

"Oh, also, you're a fan of Spider-Man, right? Your sister too?" Max nodded dumbly. "I'm working on getting the rights down for him. Likeness, merchandise, that sort of thing. I know a guy, Leo Zelinsky. He's a tailor, working on a couple of products for me once I get it settled. Clothes, shirts, you know. You interested?"

Max blinked.

"Free of charge, of course. So long as you take care of that sister of yours."

Suddenly, Max felt as if he was going to cry. Instead, he settled for a weak, "Y-Yeah, t-that'd be great. Thanks… Mr. Parker."

He clapped Max's shoulder and grinned at him. "Stay good, Max."

And just like that, Max watched Reilly and Mei Parker walk out into the animal infested streets… without an umbrella. The dogs let them pass, the cats and rodents did, the rabbits and birds did, and there was harmony in the streets. Not for the first time, Max Dillon wondered something.

Just _who_ the _hell_ was Reilly Parker?

* * *

Outside Mei managed to catch the sight of a good looking car from her peripherals, but her attention was more on the world around her, and more specifically, Benjamin Reilly Parker. To say that her expression was incredulous would be leaving out just how touched it was. Before she could even speak, he spoke for her.

"I'm putting the copyrights in your name, and Peter's. If anyone wants to make Spider-Man merchandise they'll have to come to you two and pay a substantial split of well above fifty percent." He stopped when he noticed she was staring at him and shrugged innocently. "What?"

She kissed him. "You're… amazing."

He rolled his eyes. "Please, you have much better adjectives than that to call me."

"I'll call you whatever the heck you _want_ me to," she said.

They stopped in front of the car, which was a sleek black and red Aston Martin, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out some keys. "Happy birthday, Mei Parke- oh, another kiss?" Her lips answered his. "You feel like driving?"

Mei looked at the keys dumbly for a moment, and then at him. Seconds later, when they were in the car, she was driving 'stick', intent on showing him just how grateful she was, and how much she'd miss him while he was away.

* * *

" _SWING FASTER!"_ Emma shouted.

" _I'm going north of one-hundred and twenty miles per hour!"_

" _FASTER!"_ Emma screeched, holding on to him tighter, momentarily ignorant of how his muscles felt against her body. " _I do NOT want bird crap in my HAIR!"_

She shot a hateful looking glare at Chat, who was perfectly content and unjustifiably calm as she clung to Peter's back. In a miraculous display of acrobatics, he kicked from a telephone pole, cleared over a distance of forty feet easily, and fired another webline from his wrist, catching onto the corner of a nearby building that sent them arcing into the air.

It was hardly a time for her to marvel at it, though, and she screamed. " _I hate you_ so _much right now!"_ Emma yelled, both telepathically and out loud to Chat.

"What was it you said, Emma? _'I don't mind sharing?'"_ Chat asked smugly, causing Emma to fume and redden.

" _What?!"_ Peter asked, unable to hear them with his mask on haphazardly.

" _JUST GO FASTER!"_

* * *

 **A/N: This came out of nowhere, but** _ **God**_ **, I enjoyed it! Handholding, am I right? The romance, the catharsis, Emma's distaste and jealousy. She might be a troll to Chat, but Assassin's troll-game can blow Deadpool out of the water. The benefits of constant clairvoyance, eh?**

 **Also, if anyone is wondering, the reason why Assassin, and subsequently Peter, weren't affected by Chat's animal whispering powers (?) is because of the whole 'center of the web' thing, that I, personally, enjoy. Chat of course has the animal whispering powers, but can't control them. Peter, if anything horrible happens to him, or if he's** _ **really**_ **pissed, the animals go absolutely** _ **nuts**_ **. If he's dead, or injured, or something, nature just goes crazy.**

 **Not a stretch to say that the animals like him like they like Chat, but he can't speak to them. Spiders are a different story.**

 **In hindsight it really** **makes Peter and Chat a good team, to me. I imagine she's like the** _ **Storm**_ **of animals, and he's the...** _ **Calm?**_ **Wherever he goes with her it's sort of like the eye of the storm.**

 **Poor Emma, though. Call it karma for what her older, alternate universe self…** _ **would**_ **have done to Jean Grey's time displaced younger self's…. clone, but didn't, thanks to Assassin?**

 **Jesus Christ, those logistics are a mess.**

 **Also, I'm writing a couple of small snippets of Assassin's interactions in the MCU world, specifically, the 'not-yet' rogues. What do you think? I'll probably post it anyway, but I'm interested to see if anyone else would like the idea.**

 **And I hope I've done a somewhat enjoyable job showing the type of person I think Assassin is. He's protective, and definitely stronger than mainstream Spider-Man, above or around the abilities of Kaine when he was an anti-hero, which is… a** _ **lot**_ **, not to mention his spider-sense.**

 **But in regards to protecting those he cares about, he's _far_ more calculating. Instead of a, "Get away from my idiot brother," like Kaine, he'd do something remarkably… _unfriendly,_ and quietly, to the extent that people like Norman or the Kingpin wouldn't be dead, at first, they'd be much, **_**much**_ **worse off.**

 **But, what do you expect from a man who trained alongside** _ **Wolverine**_ **and doesn't bat an eye-lash at the work he does?**

 **In short, he trolls like Anansi, is very willing to use his powers for financial gain to help others, and** _ **loves**_ **getting under peoples skin. There's a darker side that I probably won't write. He's… a lot of things, I've heard: an assassin, a mercenary, a black ops agent, and it's implied he also works with SHIELD at least once, and I don't think it's a stretch to say he and Logan are closer than their mainstream counterparts.**

 **But at the end of the day he's still the type of Peter Parker who became Spider-Man, and he has a _good_ heart. He's no Patton Parnel or the serial killing, ginger Parker from Exiles. He's Amazing: Interrupted.**

 **I also thought of putting Kaine in the Marvel Adventures universe and tearing Bullseye a new ass for hurting his 'younger, big' brother. If I did write it, it'd involved stingers, cursing, a symbiote, and Aunt May making him cookies.**

 **Kaine wants to be hardcore but his _family_ won't let him!**

 **Also, Aracely, a swear jar, a crush on Peter, and Emma deciding she doesn't like other telepaths.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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